


Falling Glitter

by KateKintail



Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:49:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Brian and Curt. Just a shameless, plotless reason for them to shag some more. Set during their brief ‘much needed’ vacation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Glitter

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the characters just as much as I do not own the glam rock movement. And yet, I use them both here as I do not get paid and this is completely for fun.

  Sodden, sweet and smelling like coconut and Curt all at once. Gentle, experienced hands smeared the oil as Curt’s fingers, black nail polish and all, ran up Brian’s chest. Curt throbbed, rising to the touch, adoring the sensual roughness and kindness that were Maxwell and Brian. Or Brian and Maxwell. But then again, Brian was always different around him, and yet exactly the same as always. Sweet, giving, adoring. Brian had always seen Curt as something special, seen him in a unique, artistic, amazing spotlight of expectations. What Brian had never grasped was that Curt saw Brian in a exceptional light, too. Brian Slade was his main man, yes. But Maxwell Daemon was his God.

            The oil was slick and silky on Curt’s privates, his chest, his thighs and now as Brian dropped like an obedient dog to his hands and knees to lick his master, now on Brian’s lips as well. Those lush, full lips slipped round Curt’s member, taking it, loving it smoothly and sensually as glitter rained down upon the men. It fell soft and rough, sticking to the oil in brilliant display. In a display fit for an audience of the world, but meant only for an audience of two. The private, sacred dancing movements marked forever in glam and glitter, in gentle and giant passion. Lights danced about them, catching the sparkles and catching the bodies as they moved together. It caught each gorgeous muscle. It caught each thin rib as chests heaved. It caught each luscious kiss, and each tender touch.

            Curt spread his legs, beams of light seeming to thickly paint the glitter onto his inner thigh. He threw his arms up in the air and fell back against the satin sheets. Brian went down with him, as he went down on him. The pale, white body a blanket over Curt against the raining glitter.

 

 

*          *            *            *            *  


  
   
  
            Curt’s eyes opened, but he remained in place, not moving to stir a millimeter. He was spooning Brian from behind, his head on the man’s back shoulder blade, and his arm cupped around the man’s torso protectively. But it wasn’t Brian he was protecting. Nor was it Maxwell.  
  
            It was a rarity for Curt Wild to wake before Brian. The blonde rocker was always so sensitive. He could sense morning light even before the rays touched him. Or he could hear the morning birds singing even before the sun rose. That was an artistic sensitive. So sensitive and so soft. And so sweet and sexy. And while it was indeed a rarity for Curt to wake before Brian, it was a certainty that sleeping naked beside the man would cause him to wake with a hard on. Not to mention a craving for something to snort. But first thing was first. First a fuck, then a cig, or something harder if he could find it. Hell, it wasn’t a vacation without something harder.  
  
            So the adventure presented itself- and everything with Brian was an adventure. Sometimes lovely and erotic… other times carnal and painful. But the question presently sitting upon his foggy, starved mind was how to wake the sleeping rock star? He considered the challenge a while as his loins longed with playful, burning, eagerness, pushed flush against his mate. No showers of glitter, no spotlights, no special affects assistance... just two naked bodies that were soon to become one. He walked a finger up Brian’s back, flawlessly smooth. He tickled fingertips against Brian’s cock, just as flawless and more full. And irresistibly delicious. Into Brian’s ear, “You will be mine. I will mangle your mind as I fondle your figure. I,” he continued to whisper breathlessly, “I will belong to your body.”  
  
            The man flinched, twitched, reluctantly rejoining the waking world. “Too fucking early, Curt,” he mumbled with a groan, turning his whole face into the bare mattress.  
  
            “Never too fucking early for this, Luv. I need.” He whispered softly, but he sounded like a junkie begging for one last hit. And he certainly had the strength and pent-up energy to back up his convictions. He took Brian by the sides and forcibly rolled him over against his own chest. Brian’s eyes fluttered open, looking up and being caught by the light streaming in through the window towering above them. His face fell, eyes snapping closed as his mouth dropped open. “Heh’eeesh!” he snapped forward in an instant, then pulled back for a second sneeze. A second that hesitated. Mouth open, eyes squeezed closed, with a helpless longing that Curt was powerlessly drawn to. He dug his fingers into Brian’s sides and pushed the man face down into the mattress. Then he positioned himself on top, lying, bending. Running his cock up and down the gentle parting off Brian’s ass to caress the soft tender cheeks, he looked down to see the caught, helpless wanting of both the sneeze and the sex. The expression remained for just a moment, suddenly giving way to the straight nose flaring briefly with a wet spray, “Ehhshh!”  
  
            Curt embraced him from atop, falling against his back, licking the salty night sweat off his neck. He smelled like Brian, tasted like Brian, looked like Brian, felt like Brian. Not Maxwell, not this morning. Only a smooth, desirable body that was meant to be dominated. Pale and glowing in the morning light, not the spotlights. Glistening from sweat not glitter. Curt ran his tongue from base of neck to beneath the ear, lapping like a dog- or a wolf. Like a hungry, starved wolf savoring a choice cut. That was Brian all right, a choice cut of meat. Curt dug in, kisses turning to bites, working the soft flesh against his tongue before releasing the man.  
  
            Curt Wild sat back on his knees, straddling Brian’s ass. He fondled, just a moment, the inviting, warm flesh. Then with a slab of lube and a chilling moan from Brian, he was in. All the more inviting and warm inside. He thrust himself hard in and out, pumping, fulfilling, quenching, using, possessing. Brian was his man. Brian was his love. But this wasn’t about love; this was a morning fuck plan and simple. It was a mere primal part of love. The most immediate. The most natural. The most rough.  
  
            A tear ran down from the corner of Brian’s eye from bearing the pain, but a pleased smile was plastered on his gentle face. His sharp nose sniffed, his hands gripped the fabric of the mattress, his teeth clenched. Curt’s hand went down, palm pressed against the flesh of Brian’s back. As he shook with climax, he raked his fingers down, scratching his prey as a wolf might. But not to devour any longer. No, now to mark. Brian, Maxwell, whoever he was… he all belonged to Curt. And Curt growled. The pain. And the immense, immeasurable pleasure. All at once, making contact, feeling everything there was to feel and then some.  
  
            His palm pressed down again, this time to help ease himself out. He pulled out and rolled off, the same hand over his own chest as his heavy breathing only just began to slow. Brian remained face down, calm, taken. Yes, taken. He was always quite taken with Curt. He reached over, though, cupping Curt’s face with his hand. Thumb caressing the cleft in the man’s chin, rubbing over the harsh stubble that was present as it was a day since his last shave. “Enjoy?” he asked calmly, leaning, washing his lips over his lover’s.  
  
            “Light me all the fucking cigarettes in a box,” he said, a bemused, secretive smile upon his face, “and then some.” Then a soft, tranquil look. “Of all the fucks I’ve ever had…” his eyebrows raised to Brian

            No need to finish. There was never any need. It was always clear, it was always known. The sacrifice, the affection, the carnal desire, the caring, the passion, the love.

            Two cigarettes hung loosely between Brian’s lips. Just lit, Brian took drags from them both, then eased one gently into Curt’s mouth as the exhaled smoke puffed between them. Curt smoked through a yawn, his eyes tired. Brian smoked cleanly, with graceful form and all the elegance that had been in his being since birth. Life, like music, was a performance, and every moment its own dance. But now, Curt seemed not in the mood to dance anything. Accordingly, Brian offered out an arm and a chest. Curt accepted, moving in against his lover, eyes closing, cig hanging from his mouth. Brian took it back, finishing it off with his own far after Curt had fallen asleep in his embrace.

            “Too early, I said,” Brian whispered, badly wanting to move in for a kiss but not daring to wake his exhausted mate. Everything was left in the wanting, and the dreaming too. For reality, as much as it tried to do the right thing, had caught them both off guard in its honesty and brashness. A public kiss, a tarted-up display… and all the while dreams. Dreams of what it should be. Of what it could be. Of what it might be. But never, Brian felt, never of what it would be.But perfection in this alone was his for the moment. For this brief instant when Curt was done with domination and turned to a weak child. Perfection for this moment only as Brian cradled expectation with reality in his arms for a nap. And Brian felt, too, that he had no alternative but to stamp the butts out on the floor and join his wolf in the gorgeous, glittery dreams.

 

 


End file.
